Because then, if you say it, I'll have to spend the first half of this post explaining away my absence and silence and making up excuses etc. If we just pretend that I've totally been here all along, we won't have to bother with those small details like "where the heck have I been?" and "why does LttP look like an abandoned wasteland?"
When I last saw you, I was having a mini-blog-existential-crisis. Sometime after that, life got a little busy. Since then, I've been trying to figure out how I should go about updating you. I realize it hasn't even been two full weeks of silence, but it feels even longer than that. Such is the life(posting)cycle of LttP.
|And if this blog were a plant, you know.|
This would probably be a bad time to mention that I was a biology major.
Included in that "sorry for being silent" post is usually some "being out of blogging practice" observation. Apparently, if I don't over share on the Internet every couple of days, I just forget how to communicate entirely. Thank God sex is more like riding a bike and less like writing a blog.
You can pretend I never said that.
Up next in my usual "sorry for being silent" post would be my "I'm just gonna ramble at you and you should deal with it" proclamation. And then you guys do deal with it, probably so that you don't shatter my self-esteem.
(Sorry for being silent. I'm out of blogging practice. Now I'm going to ramble at you.)
Speaking of self-esteem, I had a small conversation about self-esteem yesterday. Sara Nipples asked me if I was really hot in my dreams. After she asked me, I realized that even though I'm usually in my dreams (duh) I don't usually see myself in my dreams. WEIRD. I do, however, put outfits together in my dreams quite often, which I think look like the bomb dot com. Then in real life I'm all, "well this looked cool in my dreams," and I end up looking like Claudia Kishi circa the Babysitters Club.
I realize that I just said "the bomb dot com" and referenced the baby-sitters club all in the same paragraph. Please still love me. And blame Sara.
She, by the way, said she's always totally hot in her dreams. I told her that is probably indicative of some amazing self-esteem.
All of last week I was working on a post about things that I think are sucky but that no one really talks about. It took me a long time, because I wanted to make a list. And if I was making a list, it was obviously going to be a "Seven Things" list. But I didn't really have seven things to say, because when it came down to it, I just really wanted to say one thing: doesn't it suck when you feel all, "holy jeezy, I have to pee sososo bad, rightrightright now!" and you walk all the way to the bathroom internally squishy up your bladder and hoping that no one dare stop and talk to you and then you get there, to your moment of glory and: tinkle.
Not the Niagara Falls you were expecting, not even like an open faucet. Not even a leaky faucet! Just a little tinkle.
Last week on Tuesday, it was Fetus' birthday. We wanted to celebrate on the weekend, but somehow came to some last minute "let's eat at Olive Garden" plans. I'd just come out of work and was exhausted and lazy but my friends convinced me to still go along.
It was worth it, because between the sleepies and the (two) chocolate martini(s), I was laughing and laughing and laughing until I was yawning and tearing. If that makes sense at all.
Lor: Do you see how tired I am? I'm tearing!
Vye: I don't see it.
Lor: LOOK. TEARS. I tear so easy.
Vye: I tear up in the morning when I'm brushing my teeth. Like... when I'm leaning over the sink brushing, my eyes tear up.
Vye: That doesn't happen to any of you?!
Venus: Um... I tear up when I pee after I've held it in for a long time?
Fetus: Those are called tears of joy.
After this conversation, I realized that I wanted to tell you all about the little tinkle because one of the best things about writing this blog has been the "OMG ME TOO"s I've gotten. Because sometimes you become aware of some part of life, whether it be hair in the boob, or weirdly placed Braille signs or awkward elevator conversations, and you just wonder if you are the only one who has ever experienced, or ever noticed. The best thing you can hear (or read) at that moment is "me too!"
So if any of you tear up while brushing your teeth in the morning, I'll pass that along to Vyelit.
Meeting other bloggers has been another best thing about this blog so far. I have a group of 10 girls who make me laugh every day. I consider Sara one of my best friends, on or offline. I know I can tell (EX)blogger Stacey anything with no fear of judgement. See? Awesomeness.
Add to that the experience of actually meeting bloggers: Bret, who speedily walked us through Animal Kingdom and thankfully did NOT rape us; Harley, who is about the sweetest, prettiest, funniest girl I've ever met and has DRUNK SNIFFLES; and recently Teacher Girl!
TG suggested we meet up at Morgans Miami for brunch. I brought Penny along because, uh, we always go everywhere together and also because if I was going to die driving into Miami, I didn't want to die alone. I didn't die, though and the food was absolutely delicious. I think Penny took a picture of her berry waffle, but I just dug right into my food, so I have no proof of deliciousness.
We talked with TG about all sorts of things, like life in Miami, how Miami is essentially a fake city, going out in south Florida, blogging, the Chicago summit, etc.
She's another anonymous blogger and it was amazing to hear some "me too"s from her. Even though Penny and Rox both very, very occasionally blog, I'm really the only one of my friends who can claim she "lives in the Internet." It was cool to hear and relate to another consistent blogger. I laughed as she told me that sometimes she forgets the nicknames she picks for people. I nodded as she explained that sometimes she feels she shouldn't blog, but then she goes online to blog about that. I related as she told me about people who knew about her blog, but didn't seem to want to take the time to read it.
Word, Teacher Girl. Word. I've already semi-threatened her so she'll meet up with me again.
Speaking of meeting bloggers:
Penny and I will be there from the 18th-23rd. Roxanne will be in town, as I previously mentioned, but by coincidence and not design. Not sure if we'll see her there, but we'll try!
Let me know if you'll be around so I can meet you and then you can be all, "wow! You really are socially awkward" and I can be all, "DUH."
I am SO, SO excited guys.
After brunch last Saturday, TG asked if wanted to roam around some nearby stores. I declined, though, because my older sister Pink had started getting strong contractions more and more frequently and, really, I was supposed to be on baby watching duty while my brother-in-law, Cheese Cream, worked.
So, I went home instead.
And we waited. And waited. And waited.
But finally, she's here. Everyone please meet my Ellie-Bug:
She's closing her eyes, so that's still pretty anonymous, right? Right.
I love her. And I'm really glad she isn't tragic looking, because we all know how I feel about ugly babies.
More on that, though, and on what I've leaned after taking care of my other niece Gailey-Bird for the past 3 days, in an upcoming post. (Probably.)
Just some final notes:
- Please be reading Childhood Trauma. Even when I'm not posting here, I'm usually posting there. Plus, I fell in love with this last recap. LOVE, Y'ALL.
- My new nickname at work is "lil bit."
- I'm exhausted. I didn't even push this baby out, and I'm so physically and mentally and emotionally tired. Incredibly happy, but way in need of a life nap. I'm not even sure of what a life nap consists of, and it sounds dangerous, but I need one. I miss my friends. I miss having no pants on. I miss not having a damn thing to do. Mostly, I don't miss it, but today, on an overcast Friday morning, feeling like a zombie, I miss it.
I miss you guys too.